The 'O' Is Silent
by My Beautiful Ending
Summary: Family is everything when you're in the Mob, and especially when you're an Abruzzi. Catriona knows that well, as the oldest daughter of the mob boss. When he's put in prison, she visits. You don't abandon family. But her visits lead to surprising and disturbing developments... (A seven part story)
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This story takes place in season 1, noncanon with later seasons. :) Enjoy!**

 **Part 1**

The carpeted stair treads creaked on my way down, and I froze in the pre-dawn light, hoping no one had heard.

No such luck. "Is that you, Catriona?" Mom called sleepily from her bedroom.

"Yeah, Mom," I said, breathing softly, hoping the little ones wouldn't wake. "I'm off to Fox River, yeah? Like I said yesterday."

"Mmm," she mumbled. "Drive safe."

"Will do," I said, continuing to the kitchen where I grabbed the breakfast I packed last night: yogurt and granola. I shouldered my purse and, keys to the Camaro in hand, left the house.

The sun rose as I got on the interstate. Fox River State Penitentiary was a few hours outside Chicago, and I wanted to be there right when visiting hours started. I had thought about bringing one of the guys and getting him to drive while I slept, but considering how slick and controlling Philly's been lately, I decided against it.

And it's not like I was planning to get into trouble. If trouble happened to come along, I'd deal with it —I was Catriona, John Abruzzi's daughter. I could handle myself.

* * *

After an hour of munching on granola and singing loudly along to the radio, I pulled off to get gas. I pulled up to the pump and emerged into the sticky heat of the morning. A few paces later, and I had to grit my teeth against the air conditioning. My shiver didn't go unnoticed by the clerk.

"Just about everybody does that," he said, smiling apologetically.

My heart tripped. He was tall _and_ had a nice smile. "Who decided that it should be arctic temperatures in here?" I asked as I dug around in my purse for some cash.

"My manager," he replied, resigned.

I eyed him and noted the jacket he had zipped up nearly to his neck. "Trust me," he said, rubbing his short, dark hair. "I'd turn it down in a hot minute."

I smiled. "If you ever get a hot minute before you die in this refrigerator. Can I have twenty on pump three, please?" I handed him the bills. "And M&M's." I placed the packet on the counter.

"Sure thing," he said, moving to enter it into his register. "Where are you headed?"

"Fox River," I said, looking at the clock as I tucked my brown hair behind my ears. I still had plenty of time.

"The Penn?" he said, startled.

"Is there another Fox River?" I said with a smile.

"Uh, no… I just —I'm going to stop talking now," he said, handing me my receipt. His nametag said, Ethan.

I knew what he thought — _you, a nice girl with big brown eyes, who looks like she could be my school's valedictorian, going to a prison?_ I was used to it. It's what everybody thought.

"It's okay," I said. "See you later, Ethan."

"Oh! Yeah… uh, sure," he said before the door shut behind me.

I didn't mind the questions. You either had to hide from all the speculation, like Mom, or not give a damn, like me. I didn't care if people knew my father was a felon. I loved him regardless. I had passed that test a long time ago.

* * *

"Morning," I said to the guard on duty.

He didn't look at me. "Sign in, please."

I did, dutifully putting my name, the time, and whom I had come to see.

"I need your ID," he said automatically, taking the sign-in sheet back.

I rummaged through my wallet for my driver's license, jumping when he exclaimed, "You're John Abruzzi's daughter?"

I raised an irritated eyebrow. "Congratulations, you can read."

He glared at me and took my license. "Definitely John Abruzzi's daughter," he muttered. "Have a seat. We'll call you." He pushed the card back at me, and I sat down in a hard plastic chair with other families here to see a loved one.

I opened the M&M's and slipped them in my pocket, crunching on a few while I waited. I sat there for almost ten minutes before some guard called, "Abruzzi, Cat…Catri…."

"Catriona," I said, pronouncing it like Cah-TREE-na. "The 'o' is silent." I stood and followed him to the visitor's room. Taking a seat at the empty table, I waited, slipping my hand in my pocket and getting a few ready. A glance around the room revealed only mothers and girlfriends visiting their unlucky boys in prison.

The buzzer at the far end of the room sounded, and the gate swung open, admitting a tall man with a stubbly beard and hair that I kept secretly wishing he'd cut. "Catriona," he said.

I stood up quick and hugged him. "Hi, Dad."

"What brings you here?" he said, once we were seated again.

"I wanted to see you," I said, laughing.

He gave me a fond look that said, _that's a nice sentiment, but I know there's more to it than that._ "Where's the boys?" he said innocently.

"I wanted to drive by myself," I said. "I don't need bodyguards for that."

His look said, _Aha, I knew it._

"I wanted to talk to you," I said. "About Ph —Uncle Philly."

"What about Philly?"

"He's being really controlling, and uptight, and acts like he's in charge," I said. "And he took the two big checkbooks from me. I _always_ balance the checkbooks." I reached across the table, and when he took my hand, I passed the M &M's.

His face was a great mix of seriousness and humor. "You're getting good at this," he said with a smile, slipping the candy in his pocket.

"Thanks." I let myself smile a little back. "But seriously, Daddy."

"Philly's uptight because there's a guy in here who knows where Fibonacci is," he said. "If he testifies, the whole family could go down. But don't worry. I'll get it out of him."

I bit my tongue and thought carefully about what I'd say next. The one thing you didn't do in a Mob family was openly criticizing your patriarch. Fibonacci was the man who got my father sent to prison; so no, I didn't like the man. But he had a family, and I knew that if Philly got his location, he'd be dead within the day. I also didn't like how my father usually got his information. "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, you know."

He reached out and took my hand again, and I palmed him more M&M's. The spark of pride in his eyes made me unexpectedly tear up. "I'll keep it in mind, okay? I'll handle it. I promise, Oh." Oh was his nickname for me. He squeezed my hand. "But keep an eye on Philly for me. I'll call you." I nodded, squeezing back. "And I'll talk to him about the checkbooks; he shoulda known that was your territory."

I smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

"Don't worry," he said. "Tell your mother hello and the kids, too."

"I will."

"And don't worry her," he added.

"I won't," I said, "I haven't talked to her about any of it."

"Good," he said. "It's business, and she hates business."

I laughed a little. My mother, firmly sandwiched between two Mob families, preferred to bury her head in the sand and pretend we were normal. As much as she could, anyway.

"So what have you all been up to?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Same old, same old, I guess. School, church. We're just about done, and the kids are real excited about summer. Their report cards should be in any day, too."

"Well, you tell 'em I said 'good job'." He swallowed.

"I can bring them next week; we haven't got anything going on."

"Don't waste all your Saturdays on your old man; you outta be doing something fun," he said.

"I don't do much; you know me," I said. "All numbers up here." I tapped my temple.

"But you're a smart girl, Catriona," he said. "Clever. I knew it the minute I saw you. You're meant for something, Oh."

I squeezed his hand and dropped more M&M's into it. "I know, Dad."

"Abruzzi," a guard called. "Time's up."

"I love you, Daddy," I said, giving him another quick hug.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he said. "You keep your nose clean."

"I will," I promised.

* * *

I stopped at the same gas station on the way home for another fill up and a Slurpee. Ethan was still working, and his eyes brightened when he saw me. "Hey," he said. "Did you have a —uh, good visit?"

"Yeah, it was good," I said with a smile. "Busy day?"

"No," he said. He smirked as he rang me up. "Just truckers, unfortunately."

I took a sip of my blue-raspberry Slurpee. "You have this shift a lot?"

"Every weekend," Ethan said, nodding.

"Well, I guess I'll see you next Saturday." I suspected my lips might be a bluish purple, but smiled anyway.

"What's your name?" he said quickly, as I turned to go.

"Catriona," I said, as a mischievous glint leaked into my eyes. "Catriona Abruzzi."

I grinned as he stared at me in shock. I winked, and then let the door jingle shut behind me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Despite what Dad said, Philly Falzone was not a man I would trust with a houseplant, much less _important_ things like money and lives. So it was on this hunch that I paused outside the office door when he was around that next week —it was open a crack, and the light was on.

My suspicions were aroused when I heard Marco say, "So how do we proceed?"

Then Philly's voice replied, "John says he's got the situation handled; he'll try finding out what the con wants."

"He can't be broken?" Marco asked.

"Not if losing two toes is anything to judge."

"Two?" Marco said incredulously. "Yeah, see for yourself. John gave 'em to me yesterday."

I jumped and clapped my hands over my mouth before I gasped and gave myself away. "You think he'll get the kid to talk by bein' nice?" Marco asked after a pause —presumably to inspect the severed digits. I took several breaths to get rid of the creepy-crawly shivers up and down my back.

"I think he's got plenty of incentive," Philly said significantly. "He doesn't want to be a has-been, and he doesn't want anything to happen to his kids."

I went from icy chill to boiling lava in .2 seconds. I dug my nails into my hands and gritted my teeth, attempting to quench the urge to throttle Philly. No one threatened my family.

* * *

"Mom, why are the kids going up to the lake with Uncle Philly?" I said, helping her chop up the vegetables for the salad tonight.

"Well, he offered, and you know they're such good friends with Marie and Anders," Mom said.

"Well, why now?" I pressed.

"Probably because they wanted to go swimming, honey," she said, shooting me a puzzled look. "What's this about? Did you want to go?"

"No, I just —I just don't feel right about it," I said, frowning at the onion I was cutting, daring it to make me cry.

"Marla's going with them, and she looks after Tony and Sophia just as strictly as she does her own kids. I know you're a worrywart, Oh, but you don't need to worry about this." She hugged me and kissed my cheek. "How did your father look when you saw him Saturday?"

"Fine," I said with a sigh. "I told him about what we've been up to. Said to tell everyone 'hey' and tell the kids 'good job' on their schoolwork."

"Did you tell him how your homeschooling has been going?" Mom asked.

"No." I licked my lips.

"Have you still not told him that I've been homeschooling you, Oh?" she asked, surprised, washing her knife off in the sink.

"I didn't want to tell him that I couldn't stand people looking at me anymore," I mumbled. "Which is completely ridiculous, because Philly's kids go to that school, and so do half the people who deal under the table in this city!" I griped. "So you'd think they wouldn't like at me like I was a leper, those hypocrites."

Mom wrapped her arms around me, hands fluttering. "Oh, it'll be all right," she whispered.

"I know, Mom," I said, letting her mother me for a minute. She got the chance so seldom now that I was seventeen. "I figure I'll research schools during the summer, and tell Dad that whichever one I decide on is better for college and that's why I'm transferring."

"I still think you should tell him," she said softly.

"Mom, it's not because I'm ashamed of him," I said. "It's not because of him at all. It's because of those hypocrite kids at St. Francis. So I'm not going to have him worry about it. Do you want me to set the table?" I said, changing the subject.

* * *

Philly Falzone was low down, lying, dirty rotten skunk. In a very expensive suit. "You can't _do_ that!" I yelled, throwing my hands in the air. " _I_ manage the accounts; you had no right to liquidate _anything_!"

Philly stared at me with the most irritating expression on his face. "You are seventeen years old, Catriona, far too young for any of the family business."

"I started crunching numbers when I was twelve," I hissed. _Not to mention you threatened me and my brother and sister to get what you wanted_ , I added in my head. No need for him to know how much I knew. "How dare you do this."

"Well, Catriona, John's a has-been. He's had plenty of chances to find out where Fibonacci is, and he's gotten no results. There are consequences for that." He brushed off his suit and walked past me out the door.

I clenched my fists and contained the scream building up inside me.

"Oh, Oh, come to play," Sophia and Tony called running in the parlor and tugging on my hands.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. "Hey, Mom's resting, okay? How about we color instead?" I got them situated at the table in the playroom and while they drew houses and airplanes, I practiced Philly's signature over and over again.

* * *

"That's what I said, Daddy —he liquidated everything." I wound the phone cord around my fingers as I stared at the computer. "I'm looking at the numbers right now. Mom's money is all there, but —" I nodded, resigned. "No. I won't touch it; I know. But this Bellick guy —how much does he get? I could get in my account —"

I paused as he cut me off. "I know it's for college, Daddy, but how much does this guy get, anyway? It's not like…." I stopped as my eyes widened at the figure. "Oh. Okay. Right."

I glanced over my shoulder. "Well, let me see if I can work something out, okay? I'm going to make Sal gimme a look at Philly's accounts. I've been practicing his signature."

Dad rumbled down the line again.

"Dad, I'm always careful," I said with a smile. "You want to talk to Mom?"

I covered the receiver and called, "Mom! Dad's on the phone!"

Mom wandered in from the kitchen, holding a tomato. "John?" she said, smiling as she took the phone. I took the tomato and put it back in the bowl.

* * *

"Well, well, good news," Philly said, though he looked disgruntled. "The con who's got Fibonacci's location is ready to talk." I raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"Wants to meet me in person, little prick," he mumbled.

"Nice. I'm coming," I said, getting off the couch.

"Catriona, this is business —"

"I'm coming," I repeated, glaring at him. Then I smiled. "I need to tell Dad about the kids' All A's report cards, after all."

He grumbled, "Fine. Get the boys and tell them to start the car."

I grabbed my purse and hollered into the basement, "Marco, Louis, let's go!"

It was not a fun car ride. We did not listen to the radio or talk. I sat and listened to my iPod in the back seat and watched the mile markers pass. When we got to Ethan's exit, I leaned forward and said, "Pull off here."

"Keep going," Philly said without looking up from his blackberry. I'd bet dollars to donuts he was only playing Snake on there.

"Pull off or I'm peeing in this car," I countered.

Marco pulled off so fast I heard the wheels squeal.

Inside the gas station I went to the bathroom (which was clean —good job Ethan) and then grabbed the XL size of Slurpee, plus a bag of Doritos and two packs of M&M's and some sour gummy worms. I dropped it all on the counter in front of Ethan and handed him the card I swiped off Louis. "What a crowd," he said, watching them poke around. "What's the occasion?"

During the past few weeks I had made the drive, we had chatted a lot when I stopped, and chatted even more on my way back. Besides being cute, Ethan was a good conversationalist. When he wasn't caught off guard, that is.

"Philly wants to get info on this guy," I explained, watching him ring me up. "I'm going to see my Dad."

"And keep an eye on things?" he suggested.

"Oh, you know me," I said. We shared a smile. "Hey," I said. "You should have my number."

He blinked, startled. "Um — is that—"

"To call me," I clarified. "If you want."

"Yeah, totally," Ethan said, finding his tongue. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Sure. I'd like that."

"Here," I said, handing him a folded piece of paper.

He took it and put it in his pocket. "What's a good time to call?" he asked.

I nodded approvingly. "Around eight, if you're off by then."

"Yeah, I usually open and work 'til three," he said.

I smiled. "Okay. Talk to you later." I gathered up my purchases.

"You want a bag?"

I shot him a smug look. "I've got staff. Hey Louis!" The big man turned and gave me a surly look. "Give me a hand, huh?" I said, indicating the pile.

He reluctantly grabbed the bags, and I took a big slurp of the Slurpee. "See you around," I told Ethan with a smile.

When we got to the prison, I sat by myself at a table, and Philly took another. I cracked open my book to wait —I only had three more chapters to find out who the murderer was, and I was pretty sure my suspicions were right. A minute later, I glanced up to see Dad come out with another guy. He nodded to me, and I smiled, and then he sat down with Philly.

I looked back down at my book, ignoring the snatches of conversation until I heard my father say, "Now go and sit with my daughter until we finish business, Fish."

The man with very blue eyes came to sit by me. "Hi," I said, slipping my hand into my pocket.

"Hi," he sighed. "So you're John's daughter."

"Yup," I agreed.

"Not much family resemblance," he commented.

"I'm adopted," I replied blithely. "So you're the con with Fibonacci's location."

He just smiled a little.

I took his hand. "Sorry about your toes," I said, as I palmed him some M&M's.

He started, but then relaxed. "Cute."

"Don't eat them now," I said, looking back down at my book. "And don't let the dye stain your hands.

"Will do," he replied with a little smile. "What's your name?"

"Catriona," I said. "You?"

"Michael. Michael Schofield."

We sat in silence for a while until Philly stood up and Dad walked over. "Hi, Dad," I said, and passed him some M&M's.

"Hey, Oh," he said. "How's your mother?"

"Better; her headaches were acting up, but they changed the dose on her migraine pills and that's helped." Both men had their line of sight somewhere back and to the left of me. "What's Philly doing?" I said innocently.

"Probably calling up the Family," Dad said.

"So that's it?" I handed a few more M&M's to him.

"That's it," he said, nodding.

"And that guard lays off your case?"

"Check's in his account. Stop worrying, Catriona." His look was fond but slightly exasperated.

"That's like asking me to stop breathing," I chuckled.

Michael looked back and forth between us, interested.

" _Bye_ , Fish," Dad said pointedly.

"Nice girl, John. Good to meet you, Catriona," Michael said, getting up.

I waved at him. "Bye, Michael." As he disappeared behind the gate, I offered, "He seems nice."

"He's got too much cleverness for his own good," Dad said. "How are the kids?"

I launched into a blow-by-blow of the past week, cheerfully knowing Philly would have to wait until a guard told me time was up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

My cellphone rang at seven fifty-eight. "Hi, Ethan," I said. "Nice timing."

"You like it?" he asked. "I was watching the clock."

"Your clock's two minutes fast," I said dryly, rolling over on my bed. "But that's okay."

He laughed a little, and I heard what was probably the creak of a screen door. "So what are we going to talk about?"

"Is working at that gas station the only thing you do?" I said lazily.

"Only on weekends," he said. "I've still got school for another week."

"School and the Stop-and-Go, huh?" I said.

"School and the mathletes club. Used to do Boy Scouts, but I got my Eagle badge, so I'm done."

"Wow," I said, privately amazed. I wasn't really sure I'd met anyone who was so… forthright. In my world most people had a knife ready to stick in your back. "Mathletes, huh?"

"Should I not have led with that? Too nerdy?" he asked.

I laughed. "No, I like math. I help the accountants. I got my dad to teach me about income tax when I was twelve. What do you do?"

"In the club? Differential equations, working on tricky math problems… you know, nerd stuff. I learned calculus a year early for fun."

"Wow." I smiled. He had a brain full of numbers like me, just different numbers. "That's really impressive, not gonna lie. So what about home?"

"My mom's a secretary and my dad's a cop," he laughed. "They're not home much."

"Ohhh," I whispered, laughing. "A cop's son. Should I be on my best behavior, then?"

"I don't know, should I be worried about the Mob showing up to my house?"

"Fair point," I granted.

"How did you end up getting adopted into a crime family, anyway?"

I sighed, knowing the answer would me tangled and complicated. "You sure you want to know?"

"…If you want to tell me," he replied. "I didn't mean to pry —"

"You're not," I said, rubbing my chest where the stretched, shiny scar still showed. "I don't mind. I was born with a broken heart," I said. "At least, that's how the explained it to me at first. Cardiomyopathy. Or something." I stared at my ceiling. "My bio mom —her name was Candace —she split when I was like, one. I don't know why. Maybe it had to do with my bio dad's gambling debts. He had a lot of them, borrowed money from the wrong people. Weak hearts run in the family, I guess."

"Oh, please don't tell me that you're some kind of weird collateral or a payment for your dad's debt," Ethan said, sounding slightly horrified.

"What?" I exclaimed, sitting up. "No! Nothing like that! That's ridiculous; let me tell the story."

"Okay, sorry. It was the first thing that popped into my head."

Stung, I replied, "Well, then you shouldn't let it come out your big mouth."

"Sorry."

"Anyway," I sighed. "Well, bio dad Sam has these debts, right? But then they figure out I've got this heart thing. And then there's meds and hospital bills and doctors…"

"More debts," Ethan said.

"Exactly. So by this time, I'm like four, and need a heart ASAP, but he can't pay for it, and nothing's happening on the donor list front. So Sam turns informant on his moneylenders, hoping if they get arrested, he won't have to pay." I swallowed. "They didn't think much of that."

"So, what? They…they kill your bio dad and adopt you?" Ethan exclaimed.

I pressed my palm to my scar. "Basically."

There was silence down the line.

"It's not like I thought I was normal until one day I got the 'you're adopted' speech," I said. "Four's old enough to remember that these aren't the people you usually live with."

"Holy crap, Oh," Ethan whispered.

I knew Ethan was shocked, and justifiably so. When you say it like that, it felt like cut and dried murder. But Mob life was about… well, about justice. If you break a deal or go back on your word, there were consequences. But with justice also comes mercy, and John Abruzzi was no stranger to the two.

I could vaguely remember being in the hospital, and I could still hear my dad's —Sam's —voice above me:

 _"John, it was all for her, I swear to God. Before, yeah, I —I had it bad for the tables, the races, but man, when she got sick… it was all for her, you gotta believe that. Please, John." The tears were real, the pain visceral. A broken man with a weak heart._

 _"I know, Sam," John said. "And that's why I'm letting you do it this way."_

 _"You swear you'll get her a heart?" he begged. "John —"_

 _"None of this is her fault, Sam," John Abruzzi said. "I wouldn't punish a child for the sins of her father. She'll be okay; I'll take care of her."_

 _Sam was crying. "Thank you." A hand held mine. "Baby, I've got to go away for a while," he said, voice shaking. "But you'll be taken care of. When you go into surgery, you'll come out with an all-new ticker, okay? Not that piece of crap I gave you."_

 _"Okay," my thin voice replied._

 _"I love you baby, I want you to know that."_

 _"Love you," I whispered._

 _"Your daddy did a lot of bad things and made some bad choices, but he loves you. It was all for you."_

 _"Love," I whispered again, sinking into a drug induced sleep._

 _"Let's go, Sam," John said quietly._

 _I felt a hand on my hair, the whisper on lips on my eyebrow, and then nothing._

I wiped my eyes suddenly, and I realized, I was crying.

"Oh, are you okay?" Ethan said. "Oh?"

"Don't say things like that," I said, voice choked up. "You don't get to say things like that. You don't know how hard it was." I blew my nose. "Taking responsibility for a kid that wasn't yours, who was in the hospital for weeks after a heart transplant, on a ton of meds and immunosuppressants, who was old enough to know that you weren't her parents, who was tired and cranky and cried every time you visited.

"And then bringing that girl home and loving her unconditionally. Putting off having kids of your own to give that girl the support and care she needed. I don't think you know." I sniffed. "John Abruzzi has done some terrible things, and I don't excuse those things, but he loves me and always has. He's never lied to me. He has always been there. Okay?"

"Okay," Ethan whispered.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," I informed him. Then I hung up.

* * *

"Can I talk to Ethan, please?" I said, when a man answered the phone.

"Sure, one minute," the man said. "Ethan! Phone."

The receiver changed hands, and soon I heard Ethan say, "Hello?"

"Hi. It's me," I said. "Sorry I was so… you know. Last night. I never really told anyone that story before."

"It's fine," he said. "He's your dad, and you care about him. I should have seen that."

"Sorry I yelled, anyway," I mumbled.

"I don't remember you yelling," Ethan said.

"Well, it felt like I was yelling."

"I forgive you for whatever you feel bad about," he said dryly. "So tell me about your brother and sister. When did they come a long?"

I settled back against my bed's pillows and started talking about the long and very engrossing subject of Sophia and Tony.

"Oh, have you seen this report on TV?" Mom called, halfway through my dissertation. "Come look."

"Hang on a sec," I told him. "What is it, Mom?"

I walked downstairs, and on the TV, big as life, was Philly Falzone's picture. Arrested for parole violation, crossing state lines, intent to kill.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, punching my fist into the air. "Yes, yes, yes. You won't believe this," I told Ethan on the phone. "But Philly finally got his. They did it! Yes!"

* * *

Ethan and I talked every night for the next week, and kept talking even when I brought the kids up to see Dad. "So how come your mom never visits?" Ethan asked, as the kids played hide and week between the food aisles. "No running, guys!" I said. "She does, every couple of months. But mostly she tires to pretend he's away on business. They talk a lot on the phone."

"How come she never comes with you or the kids, though?"

I shot him an incredulous look. "Why would she?"

He said, puzzled, "Well, I mean…."

It clicked in my head. " _Right_ , you mean why we don't visit as a _family_ ," I said, smirking. "Gotcha."

"What'd you think I meant?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes and made sure the kids were out of earshot. "When she misses him too much, she comes down for a conjugal visit," I murmured. "So, no kids."

He turned beet red. "Ah, okay… right. Sorry."

I laughed. "Maybe I didn't explain well enough. It's just kind of our reality. Also, I stay with the kids when she goes, so she doesn't need to get a sitter."

"That sounds really hard. Not to have your family all together," Ethan sympathized. "I'm sorry, Oh."

"Not your fault," I said with a half-smile.

"Still," he said. "That sucks."

"Yeah." I leaned over the counter and kissed his cheek. "Thanks."

His beet colored turned a little more tomato shade. "What's that for?" he asked faintly.

"For listening," I said. "Come on, kids, we gotta get on the road!"

I rounded them up, and as we left, he was still blushing.

* * *

"Daddy! Daddy!" Sophia and Tony exclaimed, jumping up to give him hugs when he walked through the gate to the visitor's room. "Hey, how are you little rascals?" he said, sitting so they could hug him more effectively.

"Good," Sophia said emphatically.

"Well, good. You been behaving?" Dad asked, shooting a look over their heads at me.

I smiled. "Tony, tell Dad about the big fish you caught last week with Marco."

As Tony regaled him with the story, I bit the inside of my mouth and sighed quietly. John Abruzzi was easy and natural with me, but slightly awkward around his own blood children. I knew the change was from only seeing them every couple of weeks —missing crucial points in kids' development was scary, especially because they changed so _fast_ at that age.

I felt guilty about that, sometimes. But then I took it upon myself to be the best big sister ever, and take care of things. I hoped that would be enough.

" —And then we had it for lunch!" Tony exclaimed.

"I don't like fish," Sophia commented. "I didn't eat it. It was looking at me," She stared up at dad, distressed and disgusted. "It was icky."

Dad laughed and bounced her on his knee. "That's okay, Sophia; most people don't like it when dinner stares back at 'em. What else has been going on?"

I said, "The kids went to a VBS this week; they made a lot of crafts and stuff."

"Macaroni picture frames or Macaroni crosses?" he said.

"Both," I said with a smile.

"Did you have fun?" he asked Tony.

"Yes. We played games," Tony said. "I won dodge ball!"

"Well, good job! What about your sister?" Dad asked. "What's she been up to?"

I smiled. "Just chilling. Not much going on."

Sophia confided, in what was supposed to be a private whisper but didn't quite hit the mark; "Oh was kissing that boy at the gas station."

On second thought, I was open to negotiation on that "best big sister" thing. I glared at Sophia, avoiding my father's sharp glance. "It's very rude to tell tales," I said severely.

"What boy?" Dad asked, gleaning from the statement what he clearly deemed the most important part. Though I was sure we'd get to the kissing later.

I sighed. "His name is Ethan, he works at the Stop-and-Go between here and home, he's very nice, and I only kissed his cheek."

"And how long have you been seeing Ethan?" Dad asked with faux-nonchalance, since there were tiny ears in residence.

I decided to tread carefully, remembering that, as a former Mob boss, Dad does still have a good number of strings to pull when he needs to, even if he is incarcerated. "The last two months, I suppose, when I visit. We chat," I said. "Last week I gave him my number and we talked a lot on the phone."

"Every night," Sophia chimed in.

Tony poked her. "Big mouth."

"What did I say about telling tales," I warned.

"And, when were you going to tell me?" Dad asked, raising one eyebrow.

"If and when he says he likes me," I said. "But he hasn't said yet, so I was keeping things under wraps." I frowned at Sophia, who giggled. "No Slurpee for you on the way back," I said firmly.

Her lips pouted. "Aww…." she said, whine warming up.

"Nobody likes a tattle tale or a squealer," Dad told her. "You keep your business to yourself and don't go poking your nose into other people's."

Sophia sniffed, duly chastised.

"Abruzzi! Time's up!"

I glared at the guard, whom I recognized from my many visits. His name was Bellick, and I was sure time was _not_ up, but Dad shot me a look that clearly said, _Just leave it and we'll talk about this later._ As the kids said goodbye, I muttered under my breath to relieve my irritation, and gave Dad a hug. "I'll call you to get the whole story," he warned.

"Okay," I laughed. "Maybe I'll have the whole story by then. Love you."

"You, too, Oh."

* * *

Sophia did not get a Slurpee on the way back, but I did let her have several generous slurps of mine.

"So the cat's out of the bag," I told Ethan, when I paid for it. "The small fry have spilled the beans."

"Beans about what?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

I blinked. He obviously didn't think this was a secret. Maybe other people didn't have secrets the way we had secrets. "I kissed a boy," I whispered sarcastically.

He still looked puzzled. "But why… ah, they told your _Dad,_ " he finally said, understanding.

"Right."

"So… should I be worried?" he said, handing me my change and crossing his arms.

"No, _I_ kissed _you_ ," I reminded him.

"Yeah, you did," he said, reddening.

"Oh likes you," Sophia said, popping up unexpectedly. "Are you her boyfriend?"

Before I could descend and muzzle her, Ethan laughed. "Well, if she'll have me."

I stared at him. "Really?"

He smiled. "If you want. Why do you look so surprised, Oh?"

"Well, I —I thought —"

He came out from behind the counter and kissed me, which was, admittedly, very, very nice. "You believe me now?" he asked.

"Yep," I breathed. "So, just to be thorough, we're dating?"

"If that's what you want," he said.

"Good," I said, and kissed him again. And that's why Sophia got about half my Slurpee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4  
**

" _Just around the river bend… waiting just around the river bend…."_

Sophia and Tony and I were curled up on the floor watching _Pocahontas_ when the phone rang. Mom picked it up in the kitchen, wiping her hands. "Hello? Yes, this is she… _what?_ " she whispered. "An accident?"

I looked up just in time to see her drop the phone. Scooting expertly between the kids, I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Abruzzi, are you still there?" a woman's voice asked.

Mom reached for a tissue with shaking hands. "It's Fox River," she whispered. "John…." Her eyes overflowed.

"This is her daughter," I said in a hard voice. "What's happened?"

"I'm sorry, I'm Dr. Tancredi. I work at Fox River. I was calling to tell you that your father has been life-flighted to Chicago Memorial Hospital."

"Why," I demanded.

"We believe that he was involved in a prison altercation –"

"What _happened,_ " I insisted.

"His neck was slashed open," the doctor said very quietly. "But I've spoken with the ER doctors there and they've finally gotten him stabilized."

"When can we see him?" I said.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Dr. Tancredi said apologetically. "It's not policy. I just wanted to let you know."

"Thank you very much," I forced out, and slammed the receiver down into the cradle. "Mom, it's okay," I said, giving her a hug. "He's at Chicago Memorial; he'll be fine."

She finished wiping off all her smudged eye makeup and sniffed. "When can we see him?"

"They said we can't; prison policy." I made a face.

Mom looked at me over her tissue. "When has that ever stopped us?"

I blinked. Sometimes I forget that Mom is a Mob boss's wife.

* * *

Sophia and Tony safely on a play date with the neighbor kids, Mom and I drove down town and parked in the hospital parking garage. "Will they tell us his room number at the desk, do you think?" Mom wondered.

"I sort of doubt it," I said. "But there'll be a policeman outside his room, more than likely."

"If I kick up a fuss and distract the guard, do you think you can get in the room?" Mom asked.

I gave her an appreciative glace. "I'm sure I could. It's a good thing I brought along this pair of scrubs." I showed her the blue material in my purse.

"I've always said that you think very well on your feet, Oh," Mom said.

I beamed.

* * *

I really didn't think Mom had it in her. We decided to start in the ICU and work our way down. Mom did check at the desk, but the nurse gave her the stink eye. I pulled the scrubs on over my clothes and we gave our best impression of a nurse (me) escorting a person (Mom).

He wasn't in the ICU –or at least there was no policeman. Two floors later, and we struck pay dirt.

Mom headed toward the policeman with a purposeful air and demanded to know if this was John Abruzzi's room, ordering him aside, and generally making life difficult for the poor man who had been peacefully enjoying the paper and a cup of coffee before Mom stormed up. While he was distracted to perfection, I approached from the other end of the hallway and slipped in the door as he tried (unsuccessfully) to herd Mom away.

Easing the door shut without a click, I took a deep breath at the sight of Dad handcuffed to a hospital bed, a large white bandage around his neck and an IV bag of fluid in his arm. "Psst," I whispered, leaning over him.

He opened one eye. "Hmm," he said.

"Hi, Daddy," I said, smiling.

"Is that your mother making that racket?" he said slowly, sounding like he had a strong dose of painkillers in his system.

"Yup, she's giving that officer a lot of grief. Are you okay?"

He waved a way my worried look. "The Lord was with me," he murmured.

"Who did this?" I said.

"Someone I sinned against," he sighed.

"Have you been talking to the chaplain?" I asked, seeing the cross on the side of the table. Someone had buzzed his hair, too. _Finally_ , I thought privately, shooting a glance at the door. The officer was finally gaining some traction in getting Mom to go away.

Dad nodded. "Jesus saved me, Oh."

I smiled. "Praise God."

"Physically and spiritually," he added. "I'm sorry. I need your forgiveness, Oh." I blinked, caught off-guard.

"What for, Daddy?"

"I killed your father."  
I blinked, hard. "I –know that."

"Can you forgive me?" he asked, somehow looking older than I had ever seen him. "For taking away your real father?"

I swallowed. "Dad –"

"Please, Oh," he whispered.

"Of course I forgive you; but you _are_ my father. God works everything out for good," I said, stubbornly holding back the tears. "He knew what would happen. He knew how m-much you and Mom would love me." I hugged him carefully. "I love you."

"I love, too, Oh," he said. "Thank you." He hugged me back as well as he could with one free arm.

"You need anything?" I asked.

"No. Give my love to your mother," he said. "Tell her not to worry."

I smiled, a little wobbly. "I'll tell her you got a haircut."

"I'll never hear the end of it," he said, wiping his eyes. "Now go on, before that guard comes in here."

I grabbed a clipboard out of my purse to look official and coughed. "Hey, guess what?" I said. "Ethan asked me to be his girlfriend. We're dating now."

"Don't think you're getting off that easy," he said. "We're still going to have that chat."

"Sure," I said with a wink. "Bye, Dad."


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: so sorry it's been so long! School started and suddenly there were so many things I had to do. But please enjoy :)**

 **Part 5**

When I called Ethan on the phone that night, he opened with, "My mother wants to have you over for dinner."

"Really?" I asked, very surprised. "Does she —uh, um. I mean, what should I bring." I swallowed down my nerves.

"Just yourself," he said. "Is that cool?"

"Sure," I said. "Is this a meet-the-girlfriend dinner, or inspect the mob-boss's-daughter dinner?"

"I haven't told them your last name yet," he said. "Didn't know what you'd prefer."

"I don't care; I'm not ashamed of it. Tell them whatever you want. Are you afraid they'll freak?" I bit my lip.

"I actually don't know if it'll click with Mom," Ethan admitted. "But Dad knows some of the guards at Fox River, so…."

"Well, Dad got moved to Chicago Memorial for a while, so go ahead and tell them. There won't be many repercussions that way if they have a chance to get used to the idea."

"Chicago Memorial? What happened?" Ethan said, concerned.

"Prison fight, I guess. He's okay, though; Mom and I went up to see him, and she distracted the guard while I snuck in." I laughed. "That poor guard."

"I'm glad he's okay," Ethan said.

"Me too. And you know what?" I said. "He apologized. "For killing my bio-dad. I think part of it was the morphine, but it came from a genuine place, I think." I sighed as my grip on the phone tightened. "Asked my forgiveness. And I gave it, too."

"That's really great, Oh," Ethan whispered.

"I always had forgiven him, but knowing that the death wasn't something that he –he wanted, and that he tried to do it the best way he knew how –it was… it was good." I swallowed. "On a lighter note, I told him we're dating now."

"Oh, boy," he said.

I giggled. "Don't worry. With him in jail and Philly locked up, too, the boys have to run everything through me these days. And it's not like I would put a hit on you."

He laughed. "Well that's very comforting, Catriona. I'd like that in writing."

I smirked at the sound. "Sure thing, at this dinner. When is it, again?"

* * *

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Wade," I said, when Ethan showed me into the house.

I handed her the flowers I had brought for a hostess gift. "Thank you very much for inviting me."

"It's so nice to meet you as well, Catriona," Mrs. Wade said, smiling up at me. She was a short lady, a few inches shorter than me with curly brown hair that was just starting to gray. "Come in and sit down. Ethan's told us so much about you."

I exchanged a look with Ethan, which said, _yes, beans are spilled; we'll see what happens._

"Rob, come meet Catriona," Mrs. Wade called. Ethan's father came out of the kitchen and nodded politely to me.

I smiled. He had the look of a cop —it's very hard to lose, in the bearing, I think; but with none of the scuzziness the prison guards somehow acquire. "Hello, Mr. Wade."

"Rob's fine," he said, coming forward and shaking my hand.

"Well, sit down, sit down," Mrs. Wade said, as she herded us to the living room. "Dinner still has to cook about ten more minutes."

I settled on the sofa and Ethan sat beside me –and I was glad, because genuinely nice people make me feel awkward. "It's smells great," I offered.

"Chicken Parmesan," Mrs. Wade said. "I hope that's all right."

"That sounds great," I said, and inwardly kicked myself for the same word choice.

"How are the kids?" Ethan said, bumping my knee with his to start a new conversation track.

"Good," I nodded, grateful for the shift. "They went to the zoo with Mom today; ice cream sundaes tonight, I think."

"Kids?" Mrs. Wade inquired.

"My sister and brother, Sophia and Tony," I explained. "They're six and seven, so we just call them 'the kids' a lot of the time."

"Ten years is a wide age gap between children," Rob put in from his armchair.

I could feel Ethan stiffen, but figured there was nothing for it. "I'm adopted," I said calmly. "The time between me joining the family and Sophia's birth is only about five years."

Mrs. Wade was giving her husband a hard look, but fortunately the kitchen timer went off. "Oh, there we are," she exclaimed. "If you all could head to the table –"

"Do you need any help?" I immediately offered.

"Well, if you want to get the salad on the table, I'll get the chicken."

Thus we were busily employed until all the food was on the table and we had all gathered to say Grace. Mr. Wade –it was too hard to think of him as Rob –blessed the food, and I crossed myself when he finished. Marla nodded approvingly, and passed me the bread. "So, Catriona, we've been waiting to hear how you and Ethan met," she said. "It seems so unlikely that you should run into each other."

"Mom –" Ethan began.

"Let your girl talk," his father said. "First rule of being in a relationship. Let your girlfriend talk and say, 'yes dear' every once in a while."

I smiled noncommittally and said, "I started stopping at the Stop-and-Go where he works every Saturday on my way to Fox River. And we started talking, and I guess things just escalated." I took a bite of chicken. "This is delicious, Mrs. Wade."

"I told you it wasn't some big exciting story," Ethan said. "Though Sophia and Tony did help."

"Yes, they did, didn't they," I agreed.

"Oh?" Mrs. Wade said, eyes lighting up.

"They sort of spilled the beans to my dad when we visited," I said after chewing the bite of salad I had just taken. "So then I told Ethan, and …we decided to make it official."

"I know some people at Fox River," Mr. Wade put in, ignoring another sharp look from his wife.

"Oh?" I said politely.

"Yes, Brad Bellick, Sam Franklin, and Bob Hudson, until he passed."

"I'm so sorry for your loss," I replied automatically. I held back my distaste for Bellick, however. Similarly, I didn't say how I arranged for flowers and a note to arrive at the Hudson house.

"Tell them Robert said hello, if you get the chance," he said.

I wasn't sure if he meant well, or if he wanted to give me some sort of respectability with the C.O.'s or what, but I just nodded and smiled, mouth full. I was sure I wouldn't give a C.O. —in particular, a C.O. I knew to be sleazy, overbearing, and on the take —a greeting at a church, but I kept that thought buried. Certainly Mr. Wade didn't know any of that.

"Dear, I'm sure Catriona has other things on her mind when she visits," Mrs. Wade chided gently.

"I said if she gets the chance," he protested.

"So –Catriona, what are your plans after high school? Or have you started thinking that far ahead?" Mrs. Wade asked, and the conversation drifted into the relatively safe waters of Ethan and my respective plans.

* * *

"Sorry about that," he told me later on their back porch as his mother cut up the pie for dessert. I should have known they'd be a cherry pie type family. "They sort of go hammer and tongs, but they mean well."

"I can see that," I said, bumping his shoulder. "Just means they care. All parents do it, I guess."

"Thanks for coming," he said, smiling his crooked smile.

"I've had a good time," I told him. "It's nice here." We were in what I would call the country, but he'd probably wouldn't. They still had neighbors, after all. I could hear bugs whirring in the grass, and I rubbed my arms to ward off the evening chill.

Ethan put his arm around my shoulders. "Need some help?"

"Mmmm," I said. "Still cold."

He wrapped the other arm around me, and I snuggled into his side. "Better?" he asked.

"Almost." I tipped my head up.

"Pie's ready," Mrs. Wade sang out from the porch. "Come and get it while it's hot!" We exchanged sheepish and mischievous grins before going back inside.

* * *

"It's my turn," I insisted that Saturday, "and Dad wants to meet you. He's back from the hospital."

"I know," Ethan said, hopping in the Camaro. "I protest only for the show of the thing."

"If I say to like you, then he'll like you," I assured him, pulling away from the curb in front of his house. "What a good thing you have off this week, huh?"

"My manager owed me; I covered three other shifts last week." Ethan cracked his neck. "Sleeping in was nice, though."

"There's orange juice in the backseat, if you want any," I said, navigating through his neighborhood to the highway.

He fished for the carton as I drove up to the stoplight at the feeder road. "You drink outta this already?" he said suspiciously.

"Yeah," I laughed. "Worried you'll catch something?"

He leaned over and kissed me, and I was too surprised to respond. "Nope," he said, pulling away as the light turned green. He unscrewed the orange juice and took a swallow.

"Cheeky," I mumbled.

"You taste like orange juice," he informed me.

"Stop distracting me, unless you want me to crash," I said, and we bickered back and forth down the highway until the turn off for Fox River appeared.

* * *

"C.O. at two o'clock," Ethan whispered as I signed us in. I had taught him prison lingo during our nighttime conversations.

"Put your arm around me," I said. "PDA makes others uncomfortable."

He did, but sadly, "uncomfortable" is a word that has ceased to have meaning in Fox River. "Ethan?" the C.O. said incredulously.

To his credit, Ethan turned with a modicum of relaxed surprise. "Oh, hey, Mr. B."

Bellick stared at him. "What're you doin' here?"

"Visiting," Ethan said. "This is my girlfriend, Catriona."

I didn't offer my hand. "Hi," I said easily.

He glared at me with dislike, but before he could say anything, the guard at the front called, "Wade, Abruzzi."

"Whoops, that's us," Ethan said. "See you later, Mr. B." He steered me into the visitor's room.

"Nice save," I said. "But whoops?"

"I was under pressure," he griped. "So there's some bad blood between you two?"

"He's on the take," I murmured as we sat down at a table. "From my father, so he can run prison industries."

Ethan asked, "How do you know?"

"I sign the checks." I smiled sweetly as the buzzer at the end of the room sounded. I looked up and waved. "Hi, Daddy."

I gave him a hug, relieved that he looked so much better than he did in the hospital. The angry red scar on his neck had faded a little, and his hair was trimmed –scruff turned into a beard, too. "You look good," I told him.

He smirked. "A little rest and recreation does wonders for the soul." He looked over my shoulder. "So this is Ethan."

Ethan stood and offered his hand. "Hello, sir." My father gripped his hand in a crushing man handshake, and I withheld a private smirk at the utterly typical ways of men.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," John Abruzzi said, very deliberately.

I sighed. "Dad, if you break his fingers, I'm the one who has to explain what happened to the ER doctor."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," Dad murmured, and let go of Ethan's hand to sit down. As Ethan took a seat, I saw him flex his fingers. I patted his knee sympathetically. "So," Dad began, "Ethan." He shot him a hard look. "What are your intentions toward Catriona?"

I moaned. "Daaaad…." but he waved away my protests.

Ethan made a steeple of his fingers. "My intentions are to date her and to continue to get to know her better."

"Good answer." Dad leaned back in his seat.

"Can we stop with the interrogation questions?" I slipped him a few M&M's.

"Trying to bribe me?" Dad asked, slipping the candies into his pocket.

"I learned from the best," I smirked. "So please. Stop. I already got grilled by _his_ parents; it's not fun."

Dad raised his eyebrows. "Did they react well to their son dating a convict's daughter?"

"All due respect, sir," Ethan cut in, "But I don't care what my parents think. If they want to be prejudiced that's their problem; it shouldn't effect Oh and I."

"Words are all very well, but eventually, something has to give," my father said in his distinctive timbre. "You're going to come to a point where you'll have to ask yourself what you're willing to do for family –for people you care about. You want to make sure you know _exactly_ where your lines are, or you'll end up crossing them without realizing it. Be sure."

"I am sure," Ethan said, though he looked a little confused by this slight conversation shift.

"Good. Remember –the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

"I will," Ethan said, blinking rapidly.

My eyes narrowed at my dad. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Fine," he said lightly. "How are the kids? How's your mother?"

"Good," I said. "You should have seen Mom in the hospital, Dad; she was a real trooper. She really lit into that guard."

"I vaguely remember hearing it," he said.

"And the kids are good; we didn't tell them about any of it," I said, "So think up a way to explain your haircut next visit."

He smiled, but it was sort of a funny smile. "I'll do that," he promised.

As the conversation continued, I started to get antsy. Nothing was wrong, but it just wasn't the way he usually acted –he seemed cryptic and slightly evasive. I bit my lip and worried silently as he and Ethan discussed the upcoming ballgame, an interest I have never understood or pursued.

"Abruzzi! Time's up!" Bellick yelled.

I shot him a poisonous look. He knew very well time was _not_ up; I didn't appreciate getting short-changed every time I visited. "What's going on?" I whispered, slipping Dad one last handful of M&M's.

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving me a hug. "It'll work out."

" _What_ will?" I demanded.

He stroked my hair. "Ask Benny," he whispered. Louder, he said, "You and your mother have a good time on vacation."

I nodded, wiping my face clean of emotion. Something was up, and he couldn't say. Something to do with Fibonacci? But what did "vacation" mean?

"Ethan," Dad said, shaking his hand, "good to meet you." His grip tightened and he pulled Ethan closer. "You hurt my daughter, and I'll find you. No matter where you are. Understand?"

Ethan swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Dad clapped him on the back. "God be with you."

Wincing, Ethan said, "Thank you, sir. With you as well."

As the guards led Dad away, Ethan grimaced and rolled his shoulder. "Youch, but your Dad is strong."

I smiled and slipped my hand in his. "It means he likes you," I assured him.

"What was all that –" he began, but I squeezed his hand in warning as Bellick approached us.

"I know I had ten minutes, left," I said, cross.

"Maybe your watch is slow," Bellick growled. He leveled his glare at Ethan. "Do your parents know where you are?"

" _Yes,"_ he said acidly. "And if they didn't, you wouldn't be the one to tell 'em. Come on, Oh." Wrapping an arm around my shoulders, he escorted me out.

"That was new," I remarked.

"I've known him for six years," Ethan fumed. "And that's some kind of nerve. Huh?" he said, still angry and distracted.

"That protective thing," I clarified. "New. But nice. Why?"

"Uh," Ethan mumbled, "I mean, I know you can take care of yourself –"

"You're correct."

"But I figured if I'm protective, your dad has less reason to think I'll hurt you. Also, he was being a jerk."

I smirked and wrapped an arm around his waist as we left. "Pretty smart, Slick."

"I'm not sure how I feel about that nickname."

"You're stuck with it, Slick."

"Catriona!"

I looked around and broke into a smile when I saw Michael on the other side of the chain link fence. I waved. "Hi, Michael!"

He smiled. "Good to see you again."

"Same," I said. "This is Ethan, my boyfriend." They did the nod-thing that males do when they acknowledge each other.

"Been to see John?" Michael asked.

I nodded. "Do you know who he had that fight with?" I asked, faux innocently.

"You never can tell in here," Michael said evasively.

A guard came hurrying up to tell me, "Ma'am, you can't converse with the prisoners."

"See you," I told Michael. He raised a hand in farewell.

"Who was that?" Ethan asked.

"Jealous, Slick?" I teased.

"If he's younger than twenty-seven I'll eat my hat," Ethan declared. "I think you're safe from him."

I laughed. "He's a guy my dad needed info from. He helped send Philly to prison."

"So, a great guy," he translated.

I smirked. "Exactly."

"What about that stuff about you going on vacation?" he asked. "You didn't say you're going anywhere."

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I'm going to find out."


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: thanks for the reminder! :) You know who you are!  
**

"Say that again," I demanded, staring at Benny as I pressed my fingers to my temple.

"John's breaking out," Benny said. "I don't know how, but he asked for the jet to be at the airfield tonight."

"And what else did he say?" I said, through bloodless lips.

"Have some dame on hand for leverage –Veronica Donovan, the lawyer in the Burrows case."

"Lincoln Burrows," I mumbled. "Michael's brother." I shook my head. "Michael's breaking out. And Dad's providing the plane." Suddenly, I frowned. "Benny, why are they taking the tiny three seater when they could take the jet with the compartments for smuggling?"

"Said something about 'not everyone gets a seat'," Benny replied dolefully.

"Just how many people are they breaking out?" I huffed. "You should've told me."

"Sorry, Catriona, but John wanted you to be able to claim ignorance if they question family."

"And they will question family; you know why?" I said. "Because this plan is full of holes. There is no good reason for an Abruzzi plane to be at that airfield. It's gonna have to sit there for a while –you don't think anyone's gonna notice?" I rolled my eyes. "And 'not everybody gets a seat' –if not everybody gets a seat, there's that many more mouths to spill about any plans to the cops. Change the planes –and that's an order," I added, seeing his look. "I'll try and figure out a good alibi for it."

After two hours of doodling on a notepad, I could see no way around it. It was a good excuse, it would track, and although not a hundred percent based in reality, it was all I could think of. I dialed Ethan.

"Hi, Mrs. Wade," I said very cheerfully when she answered. "It's Catriona. Can I talk to Ethan?"

"Sure, dear," she said. "Ethan!"

"Hey," he said breathlessly as the phone changed hands. "Just got in. What's up?"

I made a face. "I need a favor," I mumbled. "A big one. Can you go somewhere out of earshot for a while?"

"Yeah, hang on," he said, and I heard the TV sounds grow faint, followed by a door shutting. "What kind of favor?"

"Well, if I'm being honest, the criminal kind," I sighed.

"Oh," he said warily, "what's going on?"

"How much do you want to know, and how much do you want to have plausible deniability?"

He thought about this. "Can I know what the favor is? Let's start there."

"I need you to dress up sharp and meet me at that small airstrip –you know the one? where people fly their Cessnas –tonight at around eight," I said. "Leave a note for your parents telling them not to worry, somewhere they'll find it but not right away. And bring your passport."

"…Okay…." he said. "That's the favor?"

I squinted at my notebook paper. "In a nutshell, yes."

"I think I can do that."

"Be sure," I warned. "Even if you know nothing, there will be people extremely suspicious of you. And you can say no, I understand if –"

"Catriona," Ethan said, cutting me off. "How badly do you need this favor? Be honest."

I sniffed and cast a glance up at the ceiling in supplication. "Very badly," I whispered.

"I'll be there," he promised. "You can tell me the rest of it tonight."

"Okay," I said. " _Thank you_ , Ethan."

"It's okay, Oh," he said, sweeter than I'd ever heard him be. "I'd do anything for you."

I bit my lip as my eyes started to burn. "Don't be so quick to say that," I warned.

"It's true," he said. "I'll see you tonight –it's a date."

"Don't forget to look sharp," I reminded him.

"Thought I was 'Slick'," he laughed, and then hung up.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. Phase one –I checked it off my paper. Time for phase two.

* * *

"Benny, I know a large part of mob life is threats and intimidation, not to mention manipulations," I said as I applied my lipstick, "but you also keep your word and don't do anything drastic if you don't have to. So you can stop giving me that stink eye and do your job."

I examined my reflection in the mirror. Hair piled on my head, little black dress, and some very lethal-looking high heels: I was ready.

Stuffing my lipstick into my purse along with my ID, passport, huge wad of cash, and small handgun (with license), I shrugged on my coat. "Mom," I hollered, "I'm leaving for my date with Ethan! I won't be back 'till late."

"Have fun," she said from the living room where she and the kids were watching some movie. "Don't get into trouble."

I made a face and sighed. "Well, I'll try." Then we were out the door.

* * *

"So this is the place?" I said, looking at the apartment number. "You're sure?" I could hear the sound of voices behind the door.

"Sure," Benny replied. "Name's Nick Savrinn."

"And why'd we recruit him, again?"

"He could keep an eye on her 24-7, almost."

"Aha," I said, and reached out to rap on the apartment door.

The voices stopped. I waited a minute, and then looked at Benny. He slammed the lock open, and we walked in on a man with a gun in his shaking hand and a teary-eyed woman.

"Sorry about your door, Mr. Savrinn," I said, as the gun swung my way. "I'm Catriona Abruzzi. Please put the gun down."

His expression cleared somewhat, but the woman's did not. "Your services will no longer be required," I told him, "but your father will remain a free man. Ms. Donovan, could you come with me, please?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she said, looking frightened. "I don't know what this is about."

"I can understand your feelings, but in the first case, I might need a lawyer in the very near future, and secondly, I think there's someone you'll want to see." As she remained unmoving, I added, "Ms. Donovan, I give you my word no harm will come to you. But it was not a request." I tapped my foot. "We are on a very slim timetable. If you'll follow me."

I knew Benny was behind me being menacing, and I watched the woman's expression crumble as she reluctantly stepped forward.

I didn't wait to examine the curious mix of power and guilt that I felt. Grabbing her hand, I towed her along to the car as Benny made dire "keep your mouth shut" threats to Mr. Savrinn.

Sliding into the back seat, I opened the briefcase I stashed there and pulled out the documents. "Sign these, please," I said, handing her a pen.

"What?" she exclaimed.

"It makes you officially my lawyer, so I can explain," I said.

She stared at the forms. "These are back-dated."

"Well, it would look very suspicious if they were signed today," I said wryly.

She bit her lip, but she signed the forms. "What is all this about?" she demanded, voice shaking.

"Ms. Donovan –or Veronica, can I call you Veronica?" She stared at me stone-faced as Benny pulled away from the curb. "Okay, Veronica. We met at Fox River three weeks ago when you visited Lincoln Burrows and I was visiting my father. I employed you to get a woman's perspective on the law."

She pulled a face and opened her mouth. I added, "Also my father's lawyers don't like me. Today I'm going to meet up with my boyfriend Ethan to sneak off for a weekend in Mexico. You're here to make sure we observe the drinking age laws, and to say it's okay to use my father's plane. Savvy?"

"You dragged me out for _this?_ " she exclaimed, confused and outraged.

I stared at her, unflappable. "No. But that's what we're going to tell people. Relax. Get some sleep. We have a few hours to go before we reach the airstrip."


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Just because I love y'all, here's the last part! Thanks for favoriting/reviewing this niche story! I really enjoyed writing it and love seeing your feedback :)**

"Bye, Benny," I said pointedly as I stood on the steps of the plane.

"I don't like it," he warned.

"Your comment has been noted and logged," I said. "Am I an Abruzzi or not?"

Benny sighed. "John won't like it," he said.

'Very likely," I nodded. "But Daddy doesn't like a lot of things. Now you've got to go." He finally went, grumbling all the way.

"Comfortable, Ms. Donovan?" I asked, looking over my shoulder.

"You can't be more than eighteen," she murmured.

"Close," I said, scanning the darkness. "I'm seventeen."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Plausible deniability, Veronica," I said.

"I thought I was your lawyer."

I laughed. On the far side of the airfield, a car slowed long enough for a figure to hop out, and then sped off again. The figure walked across the ditch and onto the tarmac. It was Ethan. I couldn't stop the big silly grin from crossing my face as he approached.

"Hey," he puffed, jugging up, "I got a friend to drop me off; I hope that's cool. Wow, you look fantastic."

I grabbed his tie and pulled him in for a kiss. "You're not so bad yourself."

He grinned a little goofily. "Well, good, I tried." He straightened his cuffs.

I patted the front of his suit coat. "Take off your jacket and come meet Veronica." Walking into the plush and clean atmosphere of the luxury jet, I breathed in the smell of leather and Lysol. "Veronica, Ethan; Ethan, Veronica," I said, checking the clock.

"Hi?" Ethan said, confused.

"Veronica is my lawyer; you've met her before."

"No, I think I'd –"

"You've met her before," I repeated. "She is our chaperone."

"Ah," he said. "Do we need one?"

"We do if we're going to Mexico."

The pilot and Greg, the muscle, poked their heads in. "Miss Abruzzi, the station guy is starting to get suspicious."

"What did you tell him?" I asked.

"That we were having engine problems," he said.

"Well, break something and ask him to help you fix it, or ask for a part."

"Why?"

"So we don't look so suspicious," I said. "And keep your eye out for a car –I'm expecting pizza."

Ethan perked up. "Pizza?"

"Yup," I said, and shooed the men away. I kicked off my heels and sighed as my feet relaxed in the plush carpet. "Okay, moment of truth –plausible deniability or knowing what's up?" I said to Veronica and Ethan.

"This is insane, and whatever you're planning, you need to stop," she said, looking very fierce.

"One plausible deniability," I said. "I like that phrase. Fine. Ethan?"

"Spill, Oh," he said, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and loosening his tie a little.

"Okay, Veronica, into the bathroom," I said. "Wouldn't want you to have to lie."

She got up, but I stopped her with an outstretched hand. "I'd like your cellphone, please."

"I wasn't going to use it," she said, but handed it over.

I set it on a table. "I'd like to trust you, Vee. I would. But this is kind of important, and I gotta be sure, you know?"

Her mouth tight, Veronica went to the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

"Okay, here's the deal," I told Ethan in a low voice. "In a short amount of time, some men are going to come on this plane. We are going to fly them to Mexico. You and I are the explanation for this plane."

"And one of these men is your Dad?" Ethan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," I sighed. "I told you it was criminal."

He whistled. "Aiding and abetting," he murmured. "Well, this should be fun. What else?"

"Help me open up the smuggling compartments," I said. I showed him how to pull the carpet back and open up the hatches in the aisle way.

"Do you know how many men are coming?" he murmured.

"Nope," I said.

He eyed the compartments' dimensions. "Hope there's enough room."

"Miss Abruzzi? Pizza's here," Greg called.

"Oh, good," I said. "Can you grab it, Slick?"

Ethan smirked and hopped down the steps. I took a deep breath to try to calm the whirring nerves in my stomach. "Wow, uh, Catriona?" Ethan called back to me. "Does one of these pizzas have anchovies? Because the smell is pungent."

"They'll have dogs," I said. "And they'll need something to distract them." I cranked the air conditioner down another few notches. "If you could conveniently drop a slice by the door after they're on board, that'd be great."

Ethan set the three boxes down on the table. "Sure. So what do we do until they get here?"

"Keep our cover up," I said. "You'd better get over here and kiss me."

He complied without protest.

"I really appreciate this, you know," I told him between kisses.

"I know. Less talking," he murmured into my neck.

"If I don't talk, I'll jump out of my skin," I informed him.

"That worried?" he asked, after kissing me breathless, which didn't really help.

"It's just that I've never done this before," I explained, running my fingers through his hair.

"Well," he said, "me neither. But you're gonna do it. The great Catriona Abruzzi."

I laughed and kissed him again.

"Boss!" Greg called.

We broke apart, my nerves buzzing with worry and pleasure, thrilling at the term _Boss._ "Yes?"

"Cops, a ways away. We need to split."

"We're not going anywhere," I said grimly. "Help fix the engine and be ready –we do not take off until the cargo is on board." I used my thumb to rub at the corner of Ethan's mouth. "Got lipstick on you."

"Leave it," he said. "There'll be more later."

I smirked as he stumbled upon the stereo. "Hey, nice," he said. "Let's dance."

"Now?" I said.

"Sure, great way to work jitters." He turned on the radio and music blasted forth. "Come on," he said, holding out his hand. Scooping up my heels, I followed him down the steps where we proceeded to make perfect idiots of ourselves to the beat. Ethan could dance (apparently) and he tried to teach me how to jitterbug –it was abysmally unsuccessful. But by the time five men came booking across the tarmac, we were both sweaty enough to match them.

"Everybody in, down the hatch," I called. Three men didn't give me a second glance; Michael gave me a tired thumbs-up before he dashed up the steps.

"Daddy, go," I said, as John Abruzzi paused.

"What're you doin', Oh," he demanded, breathing heavily.

"Trust me," I said, hearing sirens grow closer. "Go!" I pushed him up the steps, and Ethan followed.

"Where's Veronica?" the man who looked like Michael demanded. "This is her phone." He held up the flip phone.

"She's in the bathroom," I hissed. "Will you get _in?"_

"Not enough room for five," Dad said. "Four will barely make it in those hatches."

"Lincoln?" Veronica said, astonished, as she exited the bathroom. "What the hell…?"

I groaned. Ethan dropped the pizza slice, as instructed. "Oh, they're pulling up to the gate. We've got a minute, tops," he warned.

"Everyone, _in_ ," I commanded, pointing to the hatch. "Except for you –in the bathroom, with her," I said, shooing Lincoln and Veronica back. "Now!"

Ethan helped me close the hatches on the men and lay the carpet back. I heard the bathroom lock. "Get us rolling!" I yelled to the pilot. I grabbed a cheese slick and forced myself to chew, but felt like I was going to be sick. With much effort, I swallowed.

Ethan grabbed my face and said, "Just breathe." I inhaled and leaned my forehead against his. "Good," he whispered.

I breathed out, and then back in again. "Get ready to bluff big," I muttered.

"Hey, man, you can't get on this plane," Greg exclaimed. "This is private property!"

"I got escaped prisoners that may be on this plane!" someone shouted that sounded suspiciously like Bellick.

"I can tell you right now, bub, they ain't," Greg bellowed.

I shared a look with Ethan and got up. As I reached the stairs, I made a show of tugging my dress straight. Smoothing back my hair, I said, "What seems to be the problem?"

The look on Bellick's face when he recognized me approached pure rage. He tried to push past Greg, but as Greg is a huge bear of a man, it didn't work.

"Outta my way," he growled, brandishing his shotgun.

"What is this?" I exclaimed. "Put that gun away before you hurt someone."

"Whoa, what's going on? Mr. B.?" Ethan said, coming up behind me and sliding a hand around my waist.

"Ma'am," another guard said, "We're –"

"Shut up! They're harboring fugitives!"

I drew myself up. "That's a pretty bold accusation," I snapped. "I hope you have proof, or my lawyer will slap you with a libel charge." The radio continued to blare. "Ethan, please turn the radio off," I begged.

He complied, and with a click, the radio was blessedly silenced.

"I would greatly appreciate it," I forced through clenched teeth, "if you gentlemen would go search somewhere else for these supposed escapees."

"Half you men, keep going," one man said. "Bellick –"

Bellick shook him off. "They're here! She's hiding them!"

"First of all," I said, in a much calmer voice than he deserved, "how would any felon get past Greg, here?" _Especially since you couldn't_ lingered in the air, unsaid. "Secondly, I feel that this is specific discrimination, and until you get some proof, we will go about our business," I snapped.

" _Brad_ ," a guard hissed.

"This here is Miss _Abruzzi_ ," Bellick said with a sneer.

All the guards inhaled and tensed. "Specific discrimination," I repeated, making a face. "What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?"

"Don't play like you don't know –"

"Don't take that tone with me," I snapped. "Because I _don't_ know, and unless one of you enlightens me, I will call the police. _More_ police," I amended.

"John Abruzzi and six others escaped from Fox River an hour ago," the youngest man said quickly.

I was proud of myself. My face went blank, and I stared at him like he had spoken a different language. "I'm sorry?" I said, incredulous. "What?"

"Escaped," Bellick repeated, "and it's _mighty_ suspicious that his daughter has a nice plane all gassed up and waiting at this out-of-the-way airstrip."

"Or she could just be picking up her boyfriend in a convenient location," I said.

"Which is what she did," Ethan said from behind me. "Look, I don't know what the problem is –we've been here alone all night, waiting for the engine to get fixed."

Though I outwardly nodded, my blood ran cold at Ethan's words. If this _thing_ went sideways, he'd get the book thrown at him just as hard as everyone else. "Which Greg tells me it is," I added, "and we'd like to be on our way."

A real police officer stepped forward. "If that's the case, ma'am, you wouldn't mind us coming aboard to check."

My lips thinned. "Sir, if you would like to come aboard, be my guest," I said. "But you'll understand if I don't want gross accusations thrown at me."

He nodded. "Bellick, stay here."

"But she –"

A glare from the other man cut him off. I turned and entered the nice interior, followed by Ethan and the policeman. Not a hair was out of place –though the pizza boxes were strewn about a bit. "Sorry about the mess," Ethan said. "We, ah –got a little carried away."

As the man turned to me, I blushed. "You said something about your lawyer?" he said skeptically.

I nodded. "She's in the bathroom. I think the anchovy pizza didn't sit well with her. Remind me to call about that," I told Ethan.

"I told you it tasted off," Ethan said, sitting on the arm of a chair.

"Yes, yes, you told me. I should have listened."

The policeman walked to the bathroom and knocked. "Ma'am? You in there?"

"Yes," Veronica said through the door.

"Could you open the door, please?" he asked.

"I'd rather not," Veronica said in a strangled voice. "I'm more than a little under the weather. What's this about?"

"He's looking for seven convicts," I said, pitching my voice to carry.

"Well, there's hardly enough room for one person in here, much less seven, let me tell you," she said, and then made a gagging noise.

The policeman's nose wrinkled. "Sorry to bother you, ma'am." He turned back to me. "And no one else is on the plane?"

"Well, there's the pilot and Greg," I pointed out.

He had a look around the cockpit and nodded to himself. "I'm sorry about all this, Miss Abruzzi."

"I understand," I said. "I hope you find my father –before they're in any more trouble."

"Oh, they're in trouble, all right," he muttered, but walked down the steps. "Let's go boys, trail's goin' cold. Weren't nobody there."

I didn't stick around to hear the protests, preferring to sit down and will my legs to stop shaking. I kicked off my heels as Ethan came and sat down, then Greg shut the door and the engines started. Underneath the cover of the noise, Ethan murmured, "He had the gall to say he was gonna call my parents."

"What'd you say?" I whispered.

"Told him to go right ahead and waste more time when he could be looking for prisoners." He looked grim. "But he'll tell them at some point."

"You left them a note, though, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but all it said was, 'I'm fine; don't worry'." He snored.

"You're allowed to break up with me," I said, as the plane began to move and taxi.

"Huh?"

"It might make them forgive you –if you break up with me. If you say that –"

" _Oh_ ," he said, almost angrily. "I'm _not_ breaking up with you. I chose to help. You're my girlfriend."

As we lifted off, he kissed me, and I felt my own heart soar.

Someone cleared their throats. We both jerked apart and turned to see Veronica and Lincoln looking at us from the bathroom doorway. "Is it safe to come out?" he asked, smiling a little.

"Sure," I said. "How is it down there?" I called.

"Get me outta here!" someone said.

I smiled. "Okay, hang on!"

Ethan and Lincoln peeled back the carpet and unlatched the doors to the hatch. The four men exploded into the cabin as if their combine pressure propelled them into the larger space. "Woohoo, we made it!" "Mexico, here we come!"

Dad said, "Not a lot of airflow. Going to have to fix that," before I hugged him. "Good job, Oh," he said, hugging back. "You did it." He was pleased –and proud. I couldn't speak for smiling.

"Good job, Catriona," Michael said, eyes sparkling. "That was some bluff."

"You weren't so bad yourselves," I said, embarrassed. "How on earth did you get out?"

They all sighed and looked very tired, but slapped Michael on the back.

"Well, maybe have some pizza first," I suggested. That was met with more enthusiasm. "So, Mexico," I said, leaning against my dad. "Nice place?"

"We'll find out, won't we?" he said. "We can call your mother when we get there."

"Cool," I said.

I could see Veronica in Lincoln's arms –maybe she was glad she had come after all –and Ethan was shaking hands with the Hispanic guy. He guested to me, and the man let out a whistle. " _Que bonita_ , bro."

"What are you saying about me?" I called.

Ethan grinned. "Only nice things. Don't worry."

"She always worries," Dad put in. "Can't cure her of it. It's like a disease."

"Well, maybe I know a cure," Ethan said speculatively.

I smiled. "Give it your best shot, Slick."

As he kissed me, I heard Michael say, "He seems pretty smooth, John. Tells a good story. Maybe he's got a future in your organization."

I kissed Ethan back and thought, _Yes, maybe he does._


End file.
